Inevitable
by bunny angel
Summary: Another chance for Vanyel & Tylendel, but nothing's ever easy. [ AU right after Staven. YAY CHAPTER 6! ]
1. The Hardest Thing

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: I absolutely love Vanyel and I absolutely love Vanyel/Tylendel. Therefore it's only natural to try and give them another chance at life. Screw Stefan.**

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**Inevitable  
Chapter I: The Hardest Thing  
By: B. Angel**

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_"Gala!" Tylendel cried in anguish, his voice breaking. "Gala! Don't--"_

_She turned her head just enough to look him fully in the eyes--and Vanyel heard her mental reply as it rang through Tylendel's mind and heart and splintered soul._

_:I do not know you: she said coldly, remotely. :You are not my Chosen.:_

_Emptiness--shattered rage--utter desolation._

_Vanyel moaned in anguish, sharing Tylendel's agony, and the torment and bereavement as he called after Gala with his mind and received not even the echo of a reply._

_He watched her fling herself at the five fiends. They swarmed over and about her, their darkness extinguishing her light. He heard her shriek, but this time in pain, and saw the red splash of blood bloom vividly on her white coat._

_And then there was no Companion, no fight. Only a mutilated corpse, sprawling torn and ravaged, throat slashed to ribbons, the light gone from the sapphire eyes. Tylendel was on his knees beside her, stroking the ruined head, weeping hoarsely._

_"She repudiated him--" Jaysen stood beside the trainee._

_"Suicided--" Savil reached for Tylendel's shoulder._

_Everything darkened and then white lightning flashed._

_The first thing he saw was Tylendel. He was vacant-eyed, white as bleached linen, and staring at his own blood smeared hands. He looked at Vanyel--looked through Vanyel. "Gala-"_

_Vanyel started for him, but--pain. Pain raced through him like lightning. Vanyel screamed in agony, convulsing, falling. He heard Tylendel cry out in despair--looked up--the Death Bell--Tylendel, his face a mask of nothing but pain--poised against the lightning filled darkness, arms spread as if to fly--Tylendel, leaping--falling--._

_Vanyel screamed, reaching for him--too late--_

Vanyel jerked awake, breathing hard, eyes wide in the dark. He turned to see his lover sprawled beside him, the grief that plagued him during his waking hours still visible on his sleeping face.

_It was just a dream. Oh, gods--just a dream._

He turned away and cried silently, out of relief, out of fear, he didn't know. But Tylendel was alive and it was just an awful dream.

"Ashke..."

A soft sleepy voice in his ear, an arm curled around his waist.

"What's wrong ashke? You Felt--"

"Nothing, 'Lendel, just a nightmare."

The herald-trainee murmured and hugged Vanyel in comfort. It was apparent that he was still exhausted and on recovery. The old Tylendel would have seen completely through the lie.

Van stared blindly into the dark. It was only when the sun came up that exhaustion finally overcame him and he slept.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Vanyel hovered outside the workroom, hating himself for what he was about to do. He'd been arguing with himself the entire week. And now, he had a few minutes in which to change his mind before Savil finished her session with Mardic and Donni.

_I can't back out now. 'Lendel's life depends on it. Gala's life depends on it. Even if the dream wasn't a premonition._

He had denied for the better part of the week that the dream meant anything. But the images kept haunting him every night. And even now he could recall the agony that had coursed through his veins. There was no reason why Vanyel should be dreaming things like that. He trusted 'Lendel to know what he was doing. But he stood here now because of the second spell that Tylendel planned to use.

Vanyel hadn't known what it was before, only that it was something he didn't want to know about. But after seeing the monsters in the dream, he'd taken a look at the second page. His heart had nearly stopped. The illustration of the demon was exactly as in his dream. How could he have known about it to dream about it? His link with 'Lendel was not strong enough for that. It convinced Vanyel almost enough that he was going to risk going to Savil. He knew she loved 'Lendel, even more than she loved Vanyel. She wasn't going to do anything harmful to him, Vanyel was sure of it.

And even if it was just coincidence, Vanyel felt that revenge could still be taken at a later date. Still, it hurt. He feared what 'Lendel was going to say, what he was going to do, when he found out what Vanyel had done. 'Lendel was already changing as a result of Staven's death. A cold withdrawn shadow of his former self. Vanyel didn't know what this would do to him.

And all in all, Vanyel was taking the cowardly way out, relying on Savil to stop 'Lendel instead of actually going to talk to Tylendel himself. Had there been time, he would have tried to talk to the trainee at least, but Vanyel had dithered too long and tomorrow night the plan was to be carried out. And he wasn't sure he could stop Tylendel if he decided to go through Vanyel.

The door opened, and a very down-cast Mardic and Donni stepped out.

"I want you to think about what happened today. Next time you won't be so lucky."

Vanyel waited until the life-bonded couple was halfway down the hall before he hurried to the open door. Inside, Savil was up righting the few pieces of furniture that remained intact in the room. He walked over to her.

"Vanyel?" Savil stared at the solemn pale boy, surprised at his sudden appearance. Though different from the boy that had first come into her custody, it was the distant day when Vanyel purposely sought her out. Still the way he avoided directly looking at her was making her uneasy.

"Aunt Savil." Vanyel spoke hesitantly. "Will you promise me, _swear_ to me, that you, if not the Heralds, will bring Staven's killers to justice?"

"What's this about Vanyel? What's wrong?" Savil was no fool. She saw immediately where this was going and she wasn't liking it one bit.

"No. Swear to me."

"I swear, Vanyel, the _Heralds_ will bring Staven's killers to justice."

He relaxed, just alittle bit, but Savil could still see that his eyes were troubled. He finally looked at her and in her depths she saw a swirl of emotions she couldn't identify. But before she could figure them out Vanyel produced two sheets of paper from behind him and presented it to her.

"That's--" Her eyes narrowed. "Talk to me."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Vanyel did not tell her about the dream. But then again, it wasn't necessary. Now he followed her and Heralds Lancir and Jaysen to see Tylendel.

"You wait here." Savil left no room for argument, and Vanyel could only see a glimpse of Tylendel before they shut the door behind him. Vanyel collapsed onto the couch he'd spent so many nights studying with 'Lendel. It still hurt, his betrayal. Despite all the logical reasoning he'd given himself, it still didn't belay the fact that he was betraying 'Lendel.

If 'Lendel--Vanyel wouldn't know what to do if Tylendel refused to speak to him again. But he didn't dare think that 'Lendel would forgive him; it was too much to hope for. Vanyel didn't have much more time to ponder his future. The door opened again and he looked up. That had been quick. He hadn't even heard any shouting. Or had he been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed? In any case Vanyel stood as Savil appeared at the door.

For the first time since he'd met her she actually seemed old. The lines at the corners of her eyes were more pronounced and her mouth was pressed so tight her lips were nearly invisible. She shut the door behind her.

"Savil—" Vanyel began worriedly.

"Vanyel." She walked over to him and led him outside. He allowed her to lead him, knowing it was probably bad. "Herald Jaysen thinks—and I agree—that you should stay away from 'Lendel for awhile. He's not exactly himself at the moment and we don't want him to do anything he'd regret later."

Vanyel stared at her in shock. Tylendel did not want to see him. Probably hated him. But he had expected it hadn't he? No, he had expected anger and a chance to explain himself. But his refusal to see him meant that Tylendel hated him didn't he? He turned away from Savil's weary and concerned stare and stumbled away and out the door, ignoring his aunt's voice. Outside the rain fell mercilessly, cold and stinging. Vanyel ran on, heedless.

When he finally stopped to examine his surroundings he realized he'd ended up where their hideout used to be. Now only the sad stumps of trees remained. Vanyel sobbed and fell to his knees, falling over until his forehead touched the wet ground. There was pain in his chest, gripping and unyielding. Was this what a broken heart felt like? Was he going to be alone now? Vanyel didn't know and he banished those thoughts from his head.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

He woke up half cold, half warm and all the way sore. The rain had turned into morning mist and there was a body beside him. Vanyel twisted to see what was against his back and was startled to see a white Companion beside him. Glancing closer he recognized who she was.

"He-hello Gala." He greeted hoarsely through chattering teeth. He rose wearily to his feet, stumbling a bit as a dizzy spell hit him. When the world settled he watched Gala rise and shake herself off. She stared him straight in the eyes, her apparent grief mirroring some of his own.

_:Thank you, Vanyel, for what you've done.: _ Her voice was that of a young woman and as Vanyel's vision swam, he thought he could see a young woman standing in the Companion's place. Vanyel shook his head to clear the image, so obviously a product of his imagination. He blinked at her, shocked that she was talking to him, but replied bitterly.

"I'll bet 'Lendel isn't so thankful."

:_You saved his life in many ways.:_ She projected firmly into his mind. _:And for that I will be ever grateful to you. You did the right thing. Don't ever forget that.:_

Vanyel didn't answer her and glanced away when he couldn't stand the intensity of her stare. He heard her whicker softly as he turned and began trudging back home. And although he didn't look he could feel her eyes on him the entire way.

He found Savil dozing lightly on the couches in the main room. When he entered she stood and came towards him, reaching for him.

"Vanyel, what you did—"

"I know, Aunt Savil." He interrupted her. "I know. Gala already told me okay?"

She froze, her hand hanging in mid air.

"Gala spoke to you? She actually _spoke_ to you?" She fell silent and seemed to ponder it for a little bit. Then she looked sharply at Vanyel. "Then you should know that Companions _never_ speak to anyone but their Chosen. But she spoke to you because of what you did. And that alone says volumes."

Vanyel stared at the ground, not wanting to argue. Because it didn't matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Tylendel thought. He glanced towards the shut bedroom door that the blonde lay behind. Did he dare go in? Was it too soon?

"He's just fallen back asleep."

He looked at Savil and found her studying him intently. What did she want from him? What did she want him to say? That he accepted that betraying 'Lendel was the right thing to do? The sad irony was that it was.

Without another word he turned from her and went to his room. He shut the door gently and turned around. The room was dark except for glow of the fire in the hearth, but he could see enough to see that Tylendel was sleeping.

He leaned against the door and watched his lover. He was at a total loss on what to do. His heart broke at even the thought of losing him. But he didn't know what to do now. He thought he could handle this. But he couldn't. He couldn't.

Vanyel walked slowly over to the overstuffed chair, stumbling a bit as his vision wavered. He collapsed into the softness and curled into a ball to stare at the fire. But his thoughts refused to leave him alone.

His worst fear continually surfaced in his mind. No—his worst fear had been the deaths of Tylendel and Gala. He had prevented that; at least he wanted to believe he had. He didn't dwell on the what ifs of his actions and the motives behind them. His only fear now lay with being abandoned. He didn't think he could take it if Tylendel decided never to forgive him. He'd gone too far and there was no turning back. He couldn't return to who he used to be. He couldn't.

As the warmth lulled him back to sleep and stopped the shivers that plagued his body since he woke up, he suddenly found himself crying again. For whatever was to come, he was sure that things would never be the way they used to be. And he was already missing it.

Gradually, his eyes fell shut, and the tears stopped, as if they hadn't existed at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

When Vanyel next woke again he knew there was something wrong with him. He felt extraordinarily hot and yet he was shivering again. He couldn't keep his eyes open for long without his vision deserting him. It made sense to him; after all, he'd spent the night in the rain.

But why did he have to get sick now? How could he face his lover feeling like this? But he had to explain what he did. The more this dragged on the angrier Tylendel would mostly likely get. He had to do it now. He dragged himself into an upright sitting position, but ended up hunched over with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands covering his flushed cheeks.

Opening his eyes again and glancing at the bed he saw that Tylendel still sleeping. But it was wrong. Tylendel never slept like that, so frigid and stiff. He'd always slept carelessly, limbs spread haphazardly all over the bed.

_Oh Gods, 'Lendel, is it because of me?_

His vision spun and he closed his eyes again, holding his head in his hands. Damn this fever. When he opened his eyes again he froze. Tylendel was sitting up and watching him, the firelight reflecting eerily in his eyes, his expression as cold as Vanyel had ever seen it. Vanyel straightened slowly, but he could remember nothing of what he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry." Was the only thing that came out. And at the sound of his voice Tylendel's cold expression morphed into something even more terrifying. The fury and anger and pain that had been directed at the Leshara before now reflected back at Vanyel through Tylendel's eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered again, his voice breaking.

"Get out." Tylendel's words fell like ice.

"'Lendel, please—"

But Tylendel lost it. "Get out! Haven't you _done_ enough?!" Tears ran down Tylendel's face and he choked. And Vanyel saw, despite the anger, how deeply he'd hurt Tylendel. "Get out!"

Blinking away his tears, Vanyel stood and silently stumbled his way out of the room. Shutting the door behind him he turned and leaned his forehead against it. He crumpled slowly to his knees.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, tears silently falling.

After a long while, he finally pulled himself up. He was exhausted now. Still, he didn't want to stay here. It was too painful. He stumbled outside and walked aimlessly through the field.

So dazed he was that he didn't notice where he was going until someone collided with him. Something spilled on his shirt and the sweet smell of wine filled the air. As whomever it was stumbled off, Vanyel blinked and looked around. He'd somehow stumbled into a celebration of some sort. And then his eyes widened as realization slapped him in the face.

It was Sovvan. Tonight was the night they'd planned to carry out Staven's revenge. So quickly. He'd forgotten so quickly. Vanyel's eyes watered again. And suddenly he didn't want to be out anymore. He spun around, and headed quickly back towards his room, an irrational fear blooming in him that maybe somehow Tylendel would still find a way to carry out his plans still.

"Vanyel!"

His steps slowed and he looked over to see Mardic and Donni approach him. He stared at their entwined hands for a moment before raising his eyes to look at their concerned faces.

"How are you feeling Vanyel?" Donni asked carefully.

"Fine." He answered wearily.

"And Tylendel?"

Vanyel's mouth quirked up in a bitter grin. "Angry."

"It'll be okay Vanyel." Mardic assured him. "Savil's already spoken to the Circle and Herald Lancir's already extracted Tylendel's memories as evidence for a hearing. We'll be able to get the Leshara."

"That's good." Vanyel answered vaguely, his vision blurring again, exhaustion setting in again. He had to go check on 'Lendel.

"Are you sure you're alright Vanyel?" Donni asked him again, the concern evident in her voice this time.

"Just worried about 'Lendel, that's all." He lied, attempting a small smile. Why wouldn't they just let him leave?

"Well, if it makes you feel better, he's been ordered to keep his link to Gala open at all times, just in case. That way she can monitor him."

Vanyel relaxed a little at that bit of news, some of his anxiety subsiding.

"Well, we're here if you need us okay?" Donni added, becoming slightly nervous when Vanyel didn't answer.

Aware that they watched him closely, Vanyel managed a real smile for them. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He was out of practice.

"I'm fine. You guys go on." Without waiting for an answer he brushed by them and away from the festivities, the smile fading from his face as fast as it had come.

It began to rain again, and so by the time he reached the suites his head was pounding furiously and he was soaked and chilled to the bone. But at least he wasn't so hot anymore and the dizziness and vision blurring had gone away. All the same, after he'd checked to see if 'Lendel was still in bed—he was—Vanyel collapsed on the couch and gave in to the darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It wasn't even the hand that had dragged him up from the depths of sleep and shook him. It was his voice. Withen's angry voice.

"Get up you little catamite! I don't know what in Gods name Savil's been doing, but it's stopping right now! Get up!!"

And the arm dropped him to the floor. Vanyel groaned. Had he been in his right frame of mind he would have understood immediately what and why his father was so angry and escaped immediately to find Savil or something. But Vanyel was feverish, and so he couldn't fully comprehend the situation. He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head, ignoring the booming voice above him.

But then arms dragged him back up and when a hand struck his face, Vanyel was suddenly wide awake, if a bit disoriented. But as his eyes opened and he clearly saw his father's face, he knew.

"F-father!" Vanyel managed to stammer out, ordering his thoughts to form coherently. But as Withen dropped him again, the world blurred into multiple colors and it was all he could do to stay awake.

"What did you do boy?!" Withen snarled. "Rumors! Bloody rumors all the way to the Keep! You've destroyed our family name!"

Vanyel didn't answer anymore. He couldn't think of anything to refute his father. It never even occurred to him to deny the charges. Not that Withen would have believed him. But Vanyel's body made the decision on what to do for him, and as he passed out his last thought was that of the blonde lying in the room next door.

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**AN: What you think? In character? OOC? What what? Constructive comments appreciated on how to make it better. **

**Please note that I'm basing all of Vanyel's attitudes on the first book only. Because of that he is still immature and blah blah all the great stuff he's going to become hasn't come about yet because it wasn't until he met Moondance and Starwind that he grew up.**


	2. Call of Duty

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: THANK YOU for the reviews. They keep me going when there's nothing else.**

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**Inevitable  
Chapter II: Call of Duty  
By: B. Angel**

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He was warm. Too warm. Except he was cold at the same time. Even so, he didn't want to wake up, but his brain started working on its own and once the first thoughts trickled into his mind his eyes shot open and he bolted upright. _Withen_… His eyes darted nervously around the room. But everything was normal. It was his room. And he was sleeping where Tylendel had been previously. His forehead furrowed in confusion. Had it been another dream? And where was 'Lendel? Vanyel was getting sick of dreams. He had no gifts like his lover, he was no Herald. Yet why was he having these visions? The worst part was that he didn't even know if they _were _visions at all or merely figments of his very imaginative mind. After all, he had no reason to believe they were real, other than the fact that they were extremely lucid. Everything else, the pain, the pages, could be coincidence. Vanyel gripped his head, exhaling slowly. _I'm going mad._ He wished 'Lendel had never told him about such things.

The door opened and he looked up. Tylendel stood in the doorway. Haloed by the light from the other room, Vanyel could not clearly see his face, and it made him nervous. He carried a tray, steam rising from the bowl to evaporate in wisps around his head. Wthout a word, the Herald-trainee walked in, set the tray on the table beside the bed and turned to leave.

"'Lendel?" Vanyel winced, his voice was pathetically transparent. Tylendel stopped, but he made no move to turn around.

"You'd better eat that Van, you're not well."

Vanyel looked down. So he wasn't forgiven. He shouldn't have expected anymore. A more pressing issue arose in his mind, temporarily forgotten by his lover's presence.

"My—father."

"Is here."

Vanyel swallowed and let out a shaky breathe. So it wasn't a dream. The worst had happened. Gods, what was he going to do now?

"Savil's still with him." Tylendel paused, perhaps feeling some of Vanyel's distress. "Just worry about getting better for now Vanyel. She'll handle it."

Vanyel flinched at hearing his name, an ache forming in his chest that had nothing to do with his illness. He said nothing more as Tylendel walked out and shut the door.

_I'm…alone again._

He glanced at the tray but the food it held did not appeal to him. He collapsed backwards onto the pillows, the ache in his chest settling into an empty numbness. A familiar feeling. A welcome feeling right now. What was going to happen now? His father would never believe him and it was a small and faint hope that Withen would listen to Savil. He didn't even know what his aunt planned to say, what she possibly _could_ say. He was going to lose it all. He'd already lost it all.

And with that final realization the tears came. Silent and cold on his heated skin. _God. Gods help me._

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Tylendel sat, dejected, on the couch. He was hunched over and his face was buried in his hands. There was a hole inside. So deep and so dark. And he didn't know how to fill it. And every time he saw Vanyel it seemed to grow wider and wider.

Being who and what he was he'd seen more than his fair share of pain. But now…Tylendel could not suppress the slightly hysterical laugh as his thoughts circled once again to the boy in the other room. Thanks to Herald Lancir, he could not remember what it felt like to die, but still he had thought that nothing could hurt worse than Staven's death. But this pain that Vanyel wrought, it ate away at him, gnawing at his insides without end. It overshadowed anything and everything that he thought important to him, gripping his mind so obsessively. But Tylendel couldn't even be angry. The anger in him had been deflated by Herald Lancir and Savil. He was left only with a hole.

He was never one to let matters go. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. The why behind it all. And what answer could possibly justify what he'd done?

_:Just remember that he loves you, Chosen.:_

Tylendel scoffed quietly under his breath.

_:And that's all that matters I suppose? I should just magically forgive Vanyel because I love him:_

_:As I love you. As I have forgiven you. The same goes for Savil.:_

Tylendel winced, falling silent. Finally, he asked unhappily, _:Why didn't he come to me:_

_:If you loved us, me, Savil, as much as you say you do, then why did you not come to us:_

_:That's different! You would have—:_

The door opened and the conversation was forgotten. He pushed down the rising anxiety that he felt for Vanyel's situation. But anxiety was replaced by guilt and concern when he once again saw his mentor. There were shadows under her eyes that _he'd _put there, the crease that was etched almost permanently into her forehead was all_ his _doing.

"Savil." He greeted softly.

"That old fool." Savil said tightly, but then her anger dissipated and she dropped into her favorite couch, weariness in her posture.

Tylendel swallowed uneasily.

"He petitions their Majesties in the morning for guardianship. And seeing as how Vanyel is First-born…" Savil exhaled slowly. "The nobles are of course going to side with their own. And the Circle is….wary of getting involved in a personal squabble like this. There are too many ramifications to maneuver around, it's doubtful they could even manage it."

"Basically we have no help." Tylendel concluded bitterly. Highly regarded he might be, but the law was the law and Withen was only demanding what was rightly his. For the Circle to oppose the Queen's decision on account of one trainee…it just wasn't going to happen.

"We knew what would happen if things got out of hand."

Tylendel rubbed his face, suddenly close to tears. He was going to lose him.

"I'm sorry, love. I've done what I could."

"I know." He said quietly. "But it's happening too fast. How did he know to come here? We've been discrete. No one knew!"

"I don't know."

A twinge. Tylendel squinted at his mentor. "Savil. What aren't you telling me?"

She watched him steadily for a moment. Her eyes suddenly drooped, as though in pain. "It was the Leshara." She said quietly. "Withen told me. One of them came to see him and indicated that there was something going on between the two of you. How they knew is beyond me. Maybe they didn't even know, they just wanted to cause trouble for you."

His world stilled for a minute. And then rage coursed through his veins. He welcomed the anger, it filled the empty void inside him. _I'm going to kill them_. Tylendel thought simply. They had effectively ruined his life. His father, his mother, his brother. And now Vanyel. He was going to kill every last one of them.

"I know what you're thinking and let me tell you right now I'll be _damned_ before I let you get by me again."

_:And me.:_ Gala said tightly.

"The Leshara clan is already in custody. They await trial and sentencing tomorrow. And you will watch it happen, and you will _not_ touch a single one." Savil said heatedly.

_:You will _not_ touch a single one.:_ She reiterated in his mind. Loudly.

Tylendel remained silent, knowing even as he thought it, it was a battle he would never win.

"Well _I'll_ be damned if I let them take Vanyel." He finally said.

Savil looked hesitant, but then her expression hardened.

"You know you can't do anything about it. We've done all we could."

"No!" He yelled, furious with her for daring to say it aloud. "Dammit Savil! I _refuse_ to let them destroy the only thing left in my life!"

"We are Heralds." She retorted icily. "The law is ours to uphold, _not_ to break. It can't be done!"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He demanded. "Am I supposed to watch? As I did my father, my mother, my _brother_! Watch while they take away _everything I love_?"

She looked on the verge of tears, but her expression was that of steel and she answered him with dead calm. "Yes."

"Then what good is being a Herald?" He asked viciously. "If you cannot save the ones you love?"

"I'm sorry 'Lendel." It was the only thing she could offer. He turned away and froze. Vanyel stood in the doorway leading to their bedroom. His presence had gone unnoticed by both, so embroiled in the argument they'd been. His silver eyes watched Tylendel steadily. Tylendel flinched and looked away. He could not bear to meet that gaze, from one he loved so dearly and hated so much.

"I take it you've heard?" Savil asked softly.

"The law is the law, Aunt Savil." Came the reply, just as soft. "We are all bound by duties are we not?"

Tylendel lifted his head then, for the resignation in Vanyel's voice tore at him more than anything. Savil did not reply, but he saw tears on his teacher's face. His pain deepened. He had been harsh. Savil was as much pained, as much bound and helpless and frustrated as he was.

_:You finally see.: _Came a subdued voice in his head. He ignored her.

"It's okay." Vanyel said. "I am First-born. No harm will come to me." But even as he said it Tylendel could feel the inklings of dread in Vanyel. Abruptly he turned and strode from the room, ignoring Vanyel's pained voice, calling his name.

Once outside he broke into a run, heading blindly anywhere but here. He ran until he had nowhere left to run and he bent over, gasping for breath, his eyes shut tight as if that would keep thoughts out of his head. When he could straighten again, he was surprised, and a bit unnerved, to find himself at the Grove Temple. He stared up at the Death Bell, silent and unmoving, and yet it sent a shiver down his spine.

_:Tylendel—: _Gala began, concern all over her Mindvoice.

_:Go away:_ He didn't shut her out entirely, she still lingered there in the back of his mind, reading his thoughts, but she wouldn't be able to speak to him anymore. He walked forward and into the temple itself. The emptiness inside calmed him down further. He sat down upon one of the benches against the wall and stared across at the marble wall. Here was a place that was seldom used except in times of great tragedy. How ironic that it would bring him peace now.

"Her Majesty assigns servants to clean this place everyday."

Tylendel jumped at Herald Lancir's voice and looked to the temple doors. The older Herald smiled dryly at him but he said nothing in return. Herald Lancir came and sat beside Tylendel, not too far, but not so close.

"She feels that to do otherwise would almost be criminal. It's a sentiment shared by all of us."

_What did he want?_ Tylendel wondered. He wasn't seeking retribution, his words, his thoughts, vehement as they were, were really half-hearted at best.

"It's a good thing, really. Otherwise, this place would have fallen to ruin decades ago."

"What is it that you want, Herald Lancir?" Tylendel asked abruptly. He didn't want to hear words anymore, he just wanted silence, and hearing the man talk as though his life weren't about to be dealt another devastating blow was something Tylendel couldn't bear.

The Queen's Own fell silent and sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"It is my job." He replied simply, quietly. "I maintain the stability of Heralds, for we do dangerous things, and sometimes those things leave us traumatized in ways that time alone just won't heal. And sometimes, even worse, there are those situations in which we, though we are believed to be capable of everything, are utterly helpless, bound by those very same rules that _makes_ us so capable."

"What is it that you offer me then? Condolences?" Tylendel answered bitterly. "There is nothing you can say here that will change the situation at hand."

Herald Lancir's lips thinned into a small and sad smile. "I must admit, I'm at a loss at what to do with your situation. What I Felt between the two of you, what I inadvertently gleaned from your memories when I extracted the evidence, well, it's nothing short of a Lifebond, if not a _true_ Lifebond." He shook his head ruefully. "And yet, that changes nothing, for Vanyel is not of age, and his father refuses to choose another Heir."

Tylendel trembled, stunned. _A Lifebond? A Lifebond!_ How? Why? Why was this happening to him? What did he owe the Gods that they would do this to him? Why did Vanyel betray him, if this was a Lifebond? Why was he being taken away, if this was a Lifebond? Why? _WHY!_ He shut his eyes and covered his face in his hands.

"There is hope, Tylendel." The Herald said even more gently. "It would only be a few years until Vanyel is of an age where he can legally relinquish his title as Heir."

He didn't speak. He couldn't speak. He only felt hollowness inside him, larger than before, more profound than before. Lifebonds were supposed to be happy things weren't they? People found each other and lived happily ever after, didn't they? Didn't they?

Herald Lancir finally sighed quietly. "I think I've said enough." A hand gripped Tylendel firmly on the shoulder for a long moment, "I only ask that you wait, for both your sake and his. Wait until things can be done properly so that you can be together, without…difficulties that would prevent it." And then he was gone.

The first sob came muffled. By the second and third the torrent of anguish and pain was rushing out of him. And Tylendel cried his grief in the silence of the Grove Temple.

Outside, a Companion stood, a lonely ghost before the temple doors.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**AN: So? Is it angst-worthy? Are there tears in your eyes? If not, I'm not doing it properly and somebody help me. Constructive comments appreciated on how to make it better. **

**Please note that I'm basing all of Vanyel's attitudes on the first book only. Because of that he is still immature and blah blah all the great stuff he's going to become hasn't come about yet because it wasn't until he met Moondance and Starwind that he grew up.**


	3. Farewell

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: I'm amazed this is so popular. I'm sorry it took such a long time, I really don't have any excuses except that this story is somehow so ridiculously hard to write and I keep doing a Van angst overload. What's the difference between Misty Lackey level angst and angst overload? Sigh. But not to further waste your time, continue on.**

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**Inevitable  
Chapter III: Farewell  
By: B. Angel**

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Tylendel did not return that night and neither did Vanyel sleep. But he felt calm. Tylendel's words to Savil circled around his heart, and he kept it there, molded it there, chiseled it in for all eternity. Somebody loved him. Lissa loved him. But Tylendel _loved_ him. He could face whatever came, if only he knew that someone loved him.

He'd considered running away again. He was no Bard, but he now knew he was good enough to be a Minstrel. He could have supported himself that way. The thought was feeble at best. Was poverty really preferable to whatever Withen would have in store for him? He didn't know. He didn't think he could do it. His had been a privileged life and he didn't pretend otherwise. Besides which, he didn't really believe Withen could get away with anything too serious. Savil and Tylendel would make sure of it. They wouldn't forget him.

And 'Lendel loved him, so he didn't fear the future so much anymore.

When dawn creeped slowly across the floor and disappeared out the window, a hollow eyed Vanyel sat silently on the bed, waiting for the axe to fall. He knew that his father was probably already in Court, waiting in line with the rest of the disputing nobles that awaited Elspeth's deliberation. It would take awhile, but there was nothing that was left for Vanyel that he felt he needed to do. He only wanted to see Tylendel.

Vanyel stood slowly, unsure for a moment why and as he stood in the center of his room gazing out the window into the gardens he suddenly knew what he wanted to do. He didn't care how hurt or angry Tylendel was. He didn't care if Tylendel wasn't going to come back. He didn't care because he was going to go find Tylendel. And even if things weren't right between them, Vanyel didn't care, because he just had to see him. He had to see him because this might be the last time he'd see him for a long time, or if ever again.

Resolutely he stepped to the door, opened it, and froze.

"Thought you could run, boy?"

Instinctively, Vanyel began to turn, flight and Tylendel the only things suddenly on his mind. But arms seized him before he could do anything and suddenly he was facing his father anyway. And Vanyel lost all willpower as resignation set in. His face smoothed out and he straightened. _Too late. Too late 'Lendel. Gods damn it I should have tried anyway._

"We're getting out of this blasted place, and you're going straight to Father Leren."

He stared at his father silently. This was a new Withen. There was disgust certainly, and the air of disappointment was always there, but there was no visible anger. Vanyel could see it coiled tightly behind his father's eyes, waiting to be unleashed once they cleared Haven. And Vanyel smiled bitterly, his thoughts on the beating he was most likely to get. This was the worst thing he could have possibly done, as First-born and Heir-apparent.

"As you wish, Father."

He glanced longingly back at his room, at his lute, and at the door that opened to the gardens and Companion's Field.

_Goodbye, 'Lendel_. _I love you._

- - - - - - - - - - - -

_:Tylendel!:_

Tylendel jerked awake, his uneasy dreams fading at the urgency of Gala's Voice. _:What is it?: _ His eyes darted every which way, searching almost expectantly for an attack of some sort, but the chapel was still as empty as it had ever been.

_:Get up! It's Vanyel! His father was seen taking him away!:_

Tylendel didn't move. His mind had suddenly gone blissfully, painfully blank.

_:What are you doing?!: _Her Voice was angry now. _:Don't you want to see him before he goes? Go see him!:_

_And then what?_ He pondered silently._ "Goodbye Vanyel. Sorry it had to end this way. I guess I won't be seeing you…."_ He couldn't—

_:Stop it, Chosen! You are being foolish and stubborn! Do you not love him enough to forgive him? Were we wrong? Do you not love him at all? Or was your mind just lonely? Did you just need to convince yourself that you loved him?:_

"Stop it!" He yelled angrily, his voice bouncing off the marble walls. "You don't know a thing about it! I do love him! I do—he just—," His mouth shut automatically. He was so afraid—

_:Do you really want his last memory of you to be angry?:_

It felt entirely too much like before with Nevis. Deceit and lies. He'd fallen for that one too. If Vanyel loved him then why had he betrayed him?

_:Chosen, please…:_

He had never heard her sound so sad, and his broken heart fractured ever more. Tylendel was at a loss at what to do. His fingers ran through his hair and gripped convulsively. His body hunched over and his eyes squeezed shut.

_:I can't, love…I just…can't:_

He wanted to so very badly. Wanted to get up and run to Vanyel and save him from his father and demand answers, the truth. Wanted to hear that Vanyel loved him too, and together they could maybe just leave this place and go on an adventure and search for Savil's Tayledras brothers. He loved him so much. But Tylendel knew it could never be and didn't move from his seat. He hardly breathed and didn't think anymore at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

He hadn't gotten to say goodbye. Aunt Savil, for all that she had done and tried to do for him. Mardic and Donni, whom were still the only friends he'd every truly had. Gala maybe, and especially Tylendel, whom he wished with all his heart would come thundering down the road on his Companion just to see him one last time.

But Vanyel kept his gaze resolutely ahead, his grip on Star's reins white-knuckled but slack. It was too late. Even if Tylendel set out now it would be nearly impossible to find them in the maze of streets that made up Haven. Turn after turn had left Vanyel already lost and wanting to clear the noise. He was beginning to feel ill again and the smells assaulting his delicate nose weren't helping by any means.

His father had yet to look him in the eyes again, but the two guards on either side of him were keeping a steady eye on him, that much he knew. No matter, he had no intention of running. All his things had been left behind and he was lost—two things that would ensure that his chances of survival would be next to none. He would be dead before he even found his way back to the palace. Haven was not without its dark alleyways where thieves jumped at opportunities to score.

By the time they cleared the city his head was aching fiercely, and the sun was high in the sky—which didn't help matters at all. Withen looked back and nodded once and the guard on his right took his reins. As Vanyel wondered what was going on, they suddenly lurched into gallop. He nearly fell before he managed to grab onto the pummel and held on till they slowed. Vanyel leveled the man with his coldest glare until he dropped the reins.

It was then that his father finally deigned to speak to him.

"Try anything and I will beat you within an inch of your life. Walking, crawling or unconscious, we are getting away from that place and back home. Is that clear?"

_Though he has yet to look at me._ Vanyel thought bitterly. "As you wish, father." The reply was automatic, and that was exactly the way it sounded. But Withen grunted and didn't speak again.

The silence was oppressing. Haven was already far enough behind them where the road was clear of travelers, and the farmers took one look at Withen's face and fine clothes, nodded once in acknowledgment, and returned to their fields. And that was only if they were close enough.

Vanyel was rapidly growing bored and he found himself dreaming that he was back at Haven. That Tylendel had magically forgiven him, and now that everyone knew they were shay'a'chern he didn't have to pretend anymore. Life would have improved drastically once the teachers stopped disliking him.

And Vanyel found he had tears in his eyes, because it was just a dream and very unlikely to happen anymore. Tylendel would eventually gain his Whites and travel with Savil. Who knew where they would be by the time Vanyel was released. It was improbable that Vanyel _would_ be released from where ever his father deemed necessary to put him. There was nothing in the world that could change how Vanyel felt.

_I'll be stuck forever,_ he realized, despair hovering at the edges of his awareness. _I'll go mad, being stuck in a drab room like Father Leren. Reading scriptures, and writing, writing what? Probably copying the Book itself. I'll go mad._ But it would only be a few years till he was of age. And he could just pretend. He'd bedded girls before…even if the thought of touching a woman now was distasteful.

_But it doesn't matter. Just do whatever it takes to get out_. He could do that. And once he was out he'd never have to go back again. They would never know. Only Heralds were mind readers. No one would know until it was too late. _And Lissa,_ he suddenly thought. Lissa would come save him, no matter where she was. The thought cheered him slightly.

_Just a couple years. A couple years and I can run away from wherever he'll put me and they won't be able to do a thing about it._ The hope burned desperately in him. _And then I'll go find him. I'll find you 'Lendel._ No matter where he went, Vanyel would find him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Are you planning on staying here forever?"

Tylendel glanced sideways at Savil, but didn't move. He was still hunched over; his eyes bloodshot from a combination of sleep deprivation, tears and a lot of rubbing.

"Kellan says Gala is worried about you. And you won't talk to her."

When he didn't reply she came and sat beside him.

_:Talk to me, 'Lendel.:_

"Is he gone?" Tylendel asked tonelessly. He felt Savil wince, Felt her worry.

"Vanyel's gone. His father was first in line. Didn't even appear to sleep that old bastard."

"I see." He pushed his elbows off of his knees and straightened, his back suddenly aching, having grown accustomed to his previous posture. "Then there's nothing to talk about."

Savil stayed silent for a moment, and Tylendel took the opportunity to rise. He did _not _want this conversation. He wanted neither solace nor comfort. He welcomed this emptiness, wanted to wallow in it, because he knew that pain hovered just on the outside. Vanyel was _gone_. And whether he loved Tylendel or not, and whether Tylendel cried or not, nothing would change that fact. And Tylendel preferred to _not_ cry anymore.

But just as he started to walk away, Savil grabbed his arm and stood beside him.

"You can't do this to yourself," she said harshly. Her eyes were an icy, reprimanding blue. "Vanyel wouldn't want you to be this way."

"I really couldn't care less, Savil," he replied flatly, "Vanyel's gone, remember?"

He Felt her hesitate again, unsure how to proceed.

"Why did he go to you?"

His change of topics was clearly unexpected, judging by the startlement on her face. But she knew exactly what he was talking about. And he knew she had no answers by the way her grip loosened on his arm.

"So, he never told you why?" Tylendel asked. "Just decided to rat me out for fun?"

Savil did not know what to say to ease his pain, to bring back the 'Lendel that she knew. She tried anyway. "I would have done the same, because I love you just as much as he does. I believe he was only trying to keep you from harming yourself. The rage you carried, 'Lendel, it hurts not just your enemies, but the people who care about you. And Vanyel was the only one close enough to truly see it."

Tylendel's hands curled into fists. "He should have come to me."

"Would you have listened?"

The silence was enough answer for the both of them.

And suddenly Tylendel sagged to the ground, hands covering his face as his body trembled. Savil knelt beside him, holding him, her hands stroking his hair gently. "Just cry, love," she said softly. "We'll deal with everything else later."

It wasn't until much later that an exhausted Tylendel finally stood with the help of his teacher. Together they limped towards the chapel doors and into sunlight.

"I should have said goodbye," Tylendel said mournfully. "He must think I hate him."

"If I know Vanyel at all, he won't think that. He knows you love him," Savil said firmly. "But yes, you should have come."

Gala and Kellan rose as soon as they cleared the steps and Tylendel released Savil to limp over to his Companion. He hugged her tightly, burying his face into her mane and projecting his love and regret. The feeling was returned just as strongly.

_:Just don't do it again.:_ She said sternly, before softening. _:I won't forgive you next time!:_

Tylendel promised and released her. His heart ached fiercely, but he felt somewhat better than before. His doubts also remained, but he decided he wouldn't believe them until he saw Vanyel again. It was the only thing he could do. If what Herald Lancir had said was to be true, then there was no way he could just cut Vanyel out from his life. He would just have to wait.

"Now that I've got you out of your hole. We've got a trial to attend to." Savil said with a small smile, though slight apprehension crept into her eyes.

He smiled tiredly at her, deciding too, not to worry her anymore. "I'll be fine, Savil. Let's just get it over with."

The trial was quick and nearly painless. He had had to relive all the memories to compile evidence against the Leshara clan. His father, his mother, his brother. When it was over their deaths lay heavily on his conscience. But justice was swift and the Queen's decision was sure. The penalty for conspiracy, murder, and wild magic was punishable by death. The Leshara men involved in the ambush were sentenced to hang, and the entire clan exiled from Haven.

He watched as the prisoners were led away, faces leering with hatred or full of fear. "This isn't over, Freylenne!" Wester Leshara was an imposing man, very much like Tylendel's father, and perhaps even more crazy, but he felt nothing. His final link to the feud was gone with Staven. His brother could rest knowing that his murderers were going to be executed. It didn't make him feel any better. But he sent a silent apology to Staven, and his father, that he was unable and unwilling to extract revenge himself. He was a Herald.

_:That's right, Chosen.:_ Her whisper echoed across his mind and faded.

The room was empty when he returned, but he didn't dwell too much on it yet. Instead his exhaustion pulled him towards the bed where he collapsed, Vanyel's scent following him into his dreams.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**AN: Have I accomplished Mercedes Lackey-level angst? Or is it too much? Comments and constructive criticisms appreciated. **

**Please note that I'm basing all of Vanyel's attitudes on the first book only. Because of that he is still immature and blah blah all the great stuff he's going to become hasn't come about yet because it wasn't until he met Moondance and Starwind that he grew up.**


	4. Walls

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: Yes, Vanyel will still be a Herald. Yfandes will still be there. She'll just have to wait a little bit longer. Lol, this chapter was a long time coming. Apologies, as always.**

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**Inevitable  
Chapter IV: Walls  
By: B. Angel  
**

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The prison cells in the bowels of Haven's palace were like any other, if a bit cleaner and much more spacious. The head of the Leshara clan sat stiffly against the stone walls. His graying hair shone in the dim light and his dark eyes blended into the darkness. The rest of the Leshara men slumped sullenly or paced the four walls confining them.

Suddenly one of the two men pacing slammed his hands against the bar, fingers wrapping around cold metal. His dark hair was greasy and his tunic crumpled where his fists had clenched. "This cannot be!" He yelled, yanking hard against the bars, as though if he applied enough strength they would give way. "This cannot be how it ends!"

"Calm yourself, son," Wester commanded coldly, "and die with dignity. The Frelennye cannot reduce us to begging mongrels."

"Tori is right, uncle." Evan Leshara spoke up quietly from the corner. His head was bowed and his fingers clasped beneath his chin. "This can't be how it ends for us." When his face rose, his expression was not of fear—instead a cold fury blazed in his eyes, etched into every single line in his face.

"We underestimated the Heralds. A most grievous blunder. Our fate is sealed, Evan, Tori. You cannot escape them." Yalin Leshara was also as still as his cousin. He slumped against the bars, his face quiet and his eyes expressionless. "_So that the sins of the father pass unto the sons_. They will avenge us."

Tori slid down till he crouched beside Yalin, his expression lost and his grip on the prison bars never loosening. "I can_not_ die here!" Abruptly he stood and began pacing silently again.

"Your son is three years old, Yalin," Evan scoffed in disdain, "there will be no vengeance there till all is forgotten. I suspect if Lydea will even allow her son to do what is necessary. I want no doubt in their minds. They will learn to fear the Leshara name."

Yalin looked sharply at his cousin. "Die like the man you're supposed to be, Evan. To go against the Queen means the end of our line. She will execute every last one of them for treason!"

"I never said the Queen, Yalin. Heralds die all the time." The smile on Evan Leshara's face was a pleasant one. His eyes held none of the anger from before. "I just want to help them along a little bit."

"Enough. Speak no further of this matter. I am not without precautions."

Evan stared at Wester for a moment before his lips curved into another smile. "Him again? I see."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"This is for your own good boy."

Vanyel said nothing, stifling the tickle in his throat lest the cough escape. Withen looked mildly uncomfortable, as he had that day he'd first sent Vanyel to Haven. He imagined it was because the safe, comfortable cloister his father had probably imagined wasn't anything like the prison it'd turned out to be.

"It is only temporary, milord," Father Leren appeased, appearing to have read the doubt on Withen's face as well as Vanyel, "Until the prefects can clear out one of the inner rooms. I had not anticipated the Lady's Marin and Sardae would both elect to arrive this week. Father Bekth assures me the matter will be cleared and young Vanyel will be situated in a room befitting his status."

Unlike his father, Vanyel had been watching Father Leren, and the mildly amused veiled glance sent his way at that statement yielded no comfort and less hope.

And just like that, the door began to swing shut. Vanyel tensed, willing himself not to show weakness and throw himself at the door like he wanted to. His body fairly vibrated with the strain and fear.

"This is for your own good, boy." This time Withen looked away when he said it, unable to bear looking at his First Born any longer.

Vanyel winced as the door closed with a final clank, the jangle of keys in the lock and the bolt sliding home had him moving to it. He trembled as he lay his ear against the cool iron, listening to the footsteps move away and Father Leren's whispers into Withen's ears. His fingernails bit into his palms as he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of sanity moving away. For surely that was the final result in a room such as this. The tears rushed to his eyes and leaked down his face as this cold realization sank in.

"Damn you, Father Leren," Vanyel whispered. He pounded his head lightly against the metal door. He had docilely allowed them to lock him in a cage. He doubted criminals in the prisons could be locked in any room more lacking than this. _I should have fought tooth and nail._ But he had been tired and ill, as he still remained, tired and ill. The rushed trip from Haven to Forst Reach had exhausted him and the entire day's ride almost immediately after to reach this place had even further. It hadn't even occurred to him that a cage would be in store for him; after all, everyone knew cloistered nobles lived in comfort, for any religion and for any reason. Even Father Leren's tiny sanctuary in Forst Reach screamed luxury compared to this place. Angrily, Vanyel wiped his face and turned to face the room.

A privy hole was immediately to his left. A threadbare cot and blanket lay in the opposite corner. Directly beside the cot lay a prayer book and a tall but dimly lit candle. Near the ceiling along the wall, small vents allowed sunlight and air in, however little. He walked to the vents, stretching on his toes to see if he could reach them. But while he was tall, his fingertips barely touched the bottom of the vents. And he very much doubted he could fit through either way. Abandoning them, Vanyel followed the wall. His fingers slid against smooth stone walls and dug into corners. He peered into the privy hole but decided to skip it for now, the faint odor emitting from it sapping his courage and will to investigate it. He stood where he began, in front of the cold metal door. He examined the door inch by inch, knowing not what he searched for but searching all the same.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_It couldn't be._

"_No." Vanyel said, voice breaking. "I saved you. No."_

_He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to look away, but they remained glued to the broken form of Tylendel. Beyond him lay the shredded remains of a Companion, one sapphire eye glinting at him from the darkness._

"_I saved you!"_

_Above them, the chapel bell tolled solemnly._

_Vanyel looked down at his hands. "NO!" His fingers clenched themselves shut. The ground shifted, and suddenly towered over him. The soft snow at his feet whipped into frenzy, joining the arcs of blue lightning that had already begun to dance around him. His eyes lifted in unseeing madness and he struck, screaming his lover's name into the storm._

_The terrible army that stood before him cowered back. Their ranks reduced but no closer to being destroyed. They poured into the canyon, trampling over their fallen._

_He collapsed to his knees, sobbing in grief and defeat, as the last of his power drained out of him and he kept his eyes resolutely on 'Lendel's face as they retaliated—_

He seized, breath caught in his chest, fear overwhelming his mind. _I'm dying._ The single thought caused him to surge upright—A choked scream emitted from his throat and he slumped, heart beating wildly as the last vestiges of the nightmare drained, leaving him in a reality no better.

No, it _was_ better, because 'Lendel was alive. He coughed hoarsely.

He glanced blearily around the room, allowing his trembling body to fall against the wall. The room remained unchanged, his tomb. In all his wildest fantasies, he had never imagined that Withen would bring him here to die. Vanyel had screamed himself hoarse yesterday, willing for someone to come. His only reply had been silence.

It had nearly been three days since his father had left. Nearly three days without food or water. Nightmares of Tylendel and Tylendel's death plagued his nights, and the mind numbing silence smothered him in waking hours.

Under his breath, Vanyel began to sing, teeth slightly chatter between words. The words were indiscernible, his voice having worn to near nothing, but it was noise all the same. Slowly he slid onto his side again, his eyes half closed as he daydreamed, or hallucinated, about the boy with dark golden hair and a warm wide smile.

He didn't know when the door opened, but the smell of food knifed through him like a blade. His mouth watered instantly while his stomach churned at the richness the scent promised. He opened his eyes to find a woman kneeling before him, smiling benignly down at him. Her hair was silk gold, and her habit a soft woolen green. She held a cup of water to his lips and Vanyel swallowed painfully, greedily, the water sloshing over his face and up his nose. He struggled to raise himself higher off the cot.

"Hello Vanyel. I am Adalie." She allowed him to take the cup and came back with a tray of food, settling it on the ground just behind her. He finished the water and reached for it.

Adalie slapped him.

Shocked, Vanyel stared at the doorway for a moment. A man in a dark green habit stood, blocking the way. A hand slid to his slightly warm and throbbing cheek and guided him back to face her. Green eyes stared at him, gentle and kind. "I'm sorry Vanyel, but you have to learn the rules." She smiled softly at him, and let go of his chin.

Vanyel clenched his fist. He did not strike women, but the slap had woken him, and he would be damned if he allowed her to catch him again.

"It's quite simple." Adalie pulled the prayer book to her and opened it to the first page. "We will read the first chapter together, and then you shall be rewarded with the Lord's food."

He stared at her, the desire to eat warring with the desire to throttle her. Was she mad? Blackmail? He could feel his face go cold. Adalie only watched him steadily. Vanyel glanced at the man in the doorway. Straw-like hair, tied into a simple tail. Large, calloused hands that hung loosely at his side. His brown eyes, too, watched Vanyel steadily.

"I refuse." He said quietly, his voice still raw, knowing he did not scare them in the least. He also knew that if he would have had no chance the attack Adalie before the man was on him.

Adalie hesitated for a moment before picking up the tray silently. She paused at the doorway and smiled back at him. "We'll be back in three days."

Vanyel trembled as the door closed. He reached for the book and with what little strength he had, tossed it at the door.

It didn't make him feel better. Vanyel felt the tears come and he jammed his palms into his eyes to stop them. He couldn't afford to lose water, if they wouldn't come back for another three days.

_Gods, this place is mad. Tylendel…_

But Vanyel was alone.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It was quiet.

It was always too quiet here these days.

They tiptoed around him as though he would break, taking careful not to mention anything from the past few weeks, especially the last. Pretending Vanyel hadn't existed.

He could have told them it didn't matter. Tylendel loved Vanyel. He would never be able to forget Vanyel existed.

He would have told them this, except he was tired too. The grief had caught up with him again. Though a great many lives had been lost this battle, and the feuding fire had died to a smolder, hostilities were still open among a couple nobles of the Frelennye and Leshara. It was all Tylendel could do to snuff out those potential problems. He had succeeded in part with the backing of Heralds Lancir and Savil and the Captain of the Guard. Any future provocation from either party would result in swift punishment from the Guard. He could do no more than that.

He sat in Vanyel's favorite chair beside the fireplace, staring at Woodlark, smiling at the memory of Vanyel with her strings in his mouth. Tylendel had refused to let them remove anything, down to Vanyel's clothes in the closet beside his own.

He knew he knew better, and he knew Gala was worried. But Tylendel was tired and so he said nothing. He grieved alone. The wine helped.

To everyone else, in the Circle, in Court, Tylendel was always the same Tylendel, and thank the Gods that the Ashkevron boy was finally gone, even though the rumors still persisted about their supposed relationship and what really happened after Staven died. But they didn't know Vanyel, and he didn't bother to correct any of it.

"We're leaving soon, ashke." He said to the empty room, pleasantly numb from the wine. "Savil thinks it's better if I got away from this place. She didn't say as much, but I think I know her pretty well. I'll finish my training on the road, and I should be a Herald by next year. Wouldn't that be something?"

He swirled the red liquid in the glass and downed the rest of it.

"I can finally help people then," he continued, setting the glass gently on the table. "I know you never understood that, but it's what I was meant to do. And when you turn eighteen…" Tylendel swallowed against the dryness in his throat and the sudden wetness in his eyes. "When you turn eighteen I'll come and save you."

He laughed, almost bitterly.

"Please be okay till then. Please, Gods."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Vanyel's stomach was eating itself. At least, that's what it felt like, and what it could only be, a pain such as this. He no longer trembled, no longer had strength to do anything but stay curled in a ball, hugging his stomach.

He had ceased crying sometime ago, not because he had wanted to, but because Vanyel simply didn't have any more tears to cry. His clammy skin had started to burn up, but there was nothing he could do about that. Time and space drifted meaninglessly, only coming into sharp focus when the pain in his stomach made itself known.

Adalie met him the same way she had the first time, with a cup of water to his lips. The smell of food once again invaded his nostrils, making his stomach contract painfully further and his eyes burn with tears that would not come.

"How are we today, Vanyel?" She asked as she gently pulled him into sitting position. She wrapped his hands around the cup, only letting go when she was sure he wouldn't drop it. Then she rose and brought the tray close to them.

"Will you read with us today Vanyel?" Adalie asked when he set the empty cup down.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Vanyel whispered, his voice rusty with misuse. He was having trouble thinking of anything but the thick broth on the tray, sliding down his throat. He had to keep swallowing to keep himself from drooling onto his chin. "I am a noble, and this is against the law."

"My dear child," She said, shaking her head sympathetically, "you are an abomination, and we wish to help you cleanse your soul of this curse. With proper direction, you may yet be saved."

"If I die, you will hang." He replied, sickened by her words.

"Then my Lord will greet me in the Havens with open arms, for attempting to save a soul such as yours." She said serenely, offering the open prayer book to him.

Vanyel swallowed and turned his head aside.

A beat of silence, a soft sigh, and then she was gone.

Vanyel collapsed onto his cot, burying his head into the rough thread and hoping to die.

He couldn't renounce who he was.

He wouldn't.

- - - - - - - - - - -

**AN: Un-beta'd and finished at 5am lol. Please point out mistakes if you will. Hope I didn't fail too many expectations.**


	5. Escape

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: Apologies, as always. Both my computers broke so all my files were all lost. As usual, no beta. Enjoy.**

**Inevitable  
Chapter V: Escape  
By: B. Angel**

Vanyel dreamed of a green warmth. He knew he was dreaming, because his days of late had alternated between hot and cold extreems, anything but this gentle warmth. He didn't mind, and wasn't inclined to want to end it. However, when it left him, taking away the comfort he so sorely desired, he followed it out.

His eyes opened only partially, too heavy with sleep and rolling despite his best efforts. The room was not his, he could tell at least, judging by the softness on which he lay and the lush curtains hanging on the wall beside him. A woman's face smiled down at him and he recoiled before realizing the face was too young to be Adalie.

"Relax youngster," the woman said, "I am a Healer. Well," she smiled ruefully, "I will be one day. I'm still training at the moment. My name is Tara, and you've been ill Vanyel, but I fixed you right up. You'll be tired for a couple days, but that's natural. Make sure you keep hydrated!"

A cough directed both of their attentions to the doorway. Adalie smiled at the both of them and bowed slightly to Tara. She held a tray in her hands, and the warm scent that wafted from the bowl it held made his mouth water. "Healer Garen requests your presence."

"I was just finished here," Tara said, rising, "Master Vanyel will be-," she looked back at Vanyel questioningly, who in his panic had grabbed her hand.

"Please," he croaked, voice hardly recognizeable to his own ears, " please don't leave me."

"Ah-," she began.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice clearer this time, "they're going to kill me."

"I'll take it from here," Adalie said quietly, placing the tray on the table and moving to stand beside the bed, "he is my charge afterall."

Tara frowned, her eyebrow raised in question.

"Rest assured Healer, Vanyel is here at his father's request. The boy is a manipulative liar and his father wished him removed from the scandal that he wrought and set on a righteous path." She reached over and pried Vanyel's hand away. "We are also not the ones killing him. He's doing a fine job killing himself by refusing to eat."

"She's lying!" Vanyel shouted, anger and desperation burning through his drowsiness and lending him the strength to surge upright.

But Vanyel was malnourished and dehydrated. He could not break free of the grip she had him in.

"Please," he begged desperately, "ask the Heralds! Ask Savil!"

Adalie jerked him towards her. "That's quite enough Master Vanyel. _Quite_enough." Her fingers tightened painfully, but Vanyel didn't care. He stared at Tara, but the healer trainee could only stare back uncertainly.

"I believe Healer Garen is still waiting for you," Adalie said, sighing.

Tara blinked, backing up a couple steps before turning away.

"Tara please...," but the woman only shook her head at him as she went out the door. "Gods, please don't leave me here! Tara!" He fought the priestess holding him, fought and screamed and shouted until his anger could no longer sustain him and he subsided, trembling.

Adalie released him, settling herself beside him with another sigh. "I do apologize. No one informed us you were ill."

Vanyel laughed bitterly. "Weren't you trying to kill me?"

She smiled at him. "Heavens no, child. We're trying to save you."

"That's a load of-," Vanyel started, but for the second time since his arrival, Adalie slapped him. His jaw worked against the pain, and his trembling fingers fisted themselves closed.

"I'll not allow you to vilify our work here," she said evenly. She offered him the Book, a small smile on her face.

Vanyel stared coldly at her.

After a moment, the corners of her mouth drooped into disapproval. "Our agreement stands, Master Vanyel. You wouldn't want to go back to the room would you." The statement was said lightly, but the threat was all too clear.

He felt the blood leave his face, and didn't resist as she took his hands and settled the book in his lap. He looked down at it, away from the smile that was back on her face.

The words swam in front of him and his fingers clasped the edges tightly, wrinkling the pages. His eyes rose again, watching Adalie pull the Healer's chair closer.

Without really thinking, Vanyel let the book slide off his lap and he moved, rising from the bed and shoving her as hard as he could while he fled.

Vanyel slammed the door shut behind him, freezing for a moment in panic before belatedly locking the door— just in time for the knob to rattle violently.

Pounding began, and Adalie's yells came muffled through the door. Vanyel backed away, running shaky hands through his hair before heading in one direction. He walked blindly, keeping his head down and as quick as his feet would carry him. It came as a surprise to him when he collided with another body, hearing the person exclaim as he recovered his balance. He spared a panicked, fleeting glance to see Tara's startled face before he pushed quickly past her. Soon he could hear the clattering sounds of pots and pans. A kitchen.

He ducked inside, reveling in the warmth that lacked in the hallway, before spotting a door in the corner. Hoping the kitchen workers were too busy to notice him, he stared only at it as he made a beeline for it. He reached up to grab one of the coats hanging beside the door and slipped out.

The cold cut into him instantly, and he hastily donned the stolen jacket, clumsily buttoning with already freezing fingers. When had it started to snow? Muffled shouts from behind the door had him moving further into the courtyard, ignoring the near instant numbness in his bare feet and casting an anxious glance backwards.

He glanced around wildly before a hopeful smile broke on his face. Without hesitation, Vanyel ran for the stables. He skidded to a stop just inside, catching himself before he slipped on the straw littering the ground. A stable hand stared at him, surprised. Vanyel's gaze went from the boy's face to his hands, where he was in the process of unbuckling a saddle.

Shoving the boy aside, and with a desperate strength he didn't know he had, Vanyel hopped on the little step and, with difficulty, pulled himself onto the horse. The effort left him winded and shaking from more than just cold.

"Hyah!" Vanyel urged. The horse lurched forward into the courtyard, shying wildly in the face of the men that were now there.

"Hyah!" He yelled fearfully, digging bare heels into the round belly, pulling the reins tight so they couldn't get grab it from him. The horse reared, whinnying. The men fell back, and Vanyel galloped for freedom.

* * *

Tylendel looked ill. There were exhaustive lines that didn't belong on such a young face, a hollowness brought on by lack of appetite and dark circles beneath the dull brown eyes. Savil bit her lip, wondering if she should say anything at all. He hadn't looked at all well since leaving Haven, worse for that matter, and she was beginning to think it was a bad idea.

"I can Feel you worrying, Savil."

He smiled at her, some amusement creeping into his eyes. However, it did nothing to brighten them, and bags under his eyes became ever more pronounced.

"Of course I am, ke'chara," she decided to be honest, "I've seen withered old hags better looking than you."

He laughed softly.

_:What__'__s__wrong,__ '__lendel?:_She tried to put all the love, concern and support she possibly could into that sentence. She felt Kellan's own solid presence wrapping Savil in her own bubble of very much the same.

_:Nothing__'__s__wrong,__per__say.:_ He replied after a moment. _:I__'__m__just__having__dreams__anymore,__love.:_ His eyes sought hers. _:He__haunts__me__so.:_

Savil bit her lip again, feeling tears rise unbidden. How her heart ached for her soul-son. _:I__'__m__sorry,__ '__lendel.:_But sorries meant nothing after all. Going away didn't mean escape after all, despite all she'd hoped.

Tylendel shook his head ruefully. "Nothing to be sorry about."

"Would it be better if we went back?" She asked, also switching to the less formal speech.

Her protégé lifted his face to look into the sky. His eyes searched unseeingly before his head dropped to look at her again, and he shook his head. "I'd rather have something to do. How far till the next town?"

"A half day maybe," Savil said, staring down the road. "I haven't been this way in some time."

"Getting old, dear?" He teased.

"Old enough to still outride you, imp." She retorted.

"Oh?" An eyebrow arch mimicking the loftiest courtier had her fighting to silence her laugh. "Is that a challenge I hear?" He grinned at her, and suddenly he and Gala were gone, galloping full speed down the road.

Kellan didn't need to be told, and Savil adjusted her posture to aid his speed, a smile breaking out on her face.

* * *

Vanyel's horse had stopped for awhile now. The soft whickers seemed tiredly impatient, as though he waited for his rider to direct him. But when there was no direction from the rider in his saddle, the old horse began walking again.

He knew he should dismount, get a fire going in a shelter somewhere. But he was so tired and so cold. He could no longer feel his feet, and as cold as the horse still felt to him, he knew it was the only warmth he had going for him.

He didn't realize he had dozed off until the shock of the pain and cold reverberated through him. He stared up muscled hind quarters and exhaled. He would not be able to get back up there. But as Vanyel stumbled to his feet, wincing as the snow cut through to his bones, he realized the horse wasn't going anywhere anyway.

It snorted nervously, nostrils flaring as it lifted its head into the wind. Slowly, Vanyel scanned his surroundings. The forest was quiet. Were the animals hibernating after the snowfall or was there something else afoot? Suddenly the horse whinnied, pulling away from Vanyel. He fumbled for the reins.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Vanyel froze, panic flooding his awareness. He forced it down with difficulty and schooled his features as best he could. He was out of practice. He turned towards the voice, "Thank goodness, I've been out here for hours. I was rob—" His heart suddenly ached. The silence stretched.

"'Lendel?" He finally managed, his voice little more than a whisper.

His lover stood just beneath the shadow of the trees. Vanyel let go of the reins and took several steps forward. He suddenly stopped, realizing his mistake. He could see clearly now that despite the similar build and the blonde hair, the man looked nothing like his 'Lendel. Not to mention the strange eyes. He licked his lips nervously and tried to pull himself together.

"Excuse me, sir. I mistook you for someone."

"Tylendel, I suppose." The stranger moved out some into the clearing, his limbs strangely graceful and lithe.

Vanyel didn't realize he had backed up until he collided with the horse, who shied away from him. He felt his surprise show on his face and tried once again to smooth it away. "Who are you?"

"I am the wizard Krebain. Master Frelennye and I have history." The man chuckled, and Vanyel's heart ached. His laugh was a clear and musical tenor, almost like 'Lendel's. His face was an unearthly beautiful, like that of elegantly sculpted marble. A history with 'Lendel? Jealousy surged through him.

"The Gods are truly cruel, Vanyel." Those strange eyes fixed intently on him.

"How do you—" The stranger surged forward, the snow whipping in flurries around them.

Lately it seemed every time he woke there was something profoundly upsetting in his life. Like this man sitting across from him now, whose cat-like gaze he couldn't quite meet. The man made him uneasy, and Vanyel wanted out. He wasn't sure what had happened. Whether he had fainted or been assaulted—except he didn't feel assaulted. And Krebain, even now those strange eyes never strayed. They made him feel strangely disoriented, and sleepy. Gods he needed to eat something. And he refused to be unconscious anymore.

"Relax, Vanyel, I won't harm you." The amused smile did nothing to alleviate any fears. He still hadn't asked how Krebain knew his name. Or 'Lendel's.

The problem was, as he glanced towards the cave opening, the snow was falling as thickly as ever, and truth be told he knew he would not survive it. He barely had the strength to stand as it was.

"I haven't decided what I'll do with you exactly. A man like Wester Leshara could never appreciate such beauty. It'd be a shame to waste you."

Vanyel suddenly grew cold, his eyes wide and locked onto the wizard.

"Perhaps I'll do both. That certainly seems the most appealing."

_Oh__Gods._ Vanyel swallowed. "Please, let me go, or send your ransom to Lord Withen of Forst Reach."

Krebain laughed. "You don't have to keep up false pretenses Vanyel. I'm very well aware your father abandoned you. No one came to save you, did they? No letters, no visits. Why do you think that is?" The smile slipped off of the wizard's face and he leaned towards Vanyel, "Everyone has gone on without you, Master Vanyel. They've no time for a weakling like you, who can't even save himself."

Vanyel frowned, and found he couldn't tear his gaze away. "That's not true," he said. His voice seemed strange, far away. The doubts wriggled into his mind.

"Really? How long were you there? Weeks? Months?"

He was confused. He tried to think back. Hadn't he only been there for a week? Had it been so much longer? Why hadn't Lissa come for him? His vision blurred. Of all people, he had thought she would never—

"Lissa is Captain of the Guard. She has duties beyond gallivanting to save her bratty brother."

Vanyel blinked, liquid sliding down his cheeks. He started as a hand touched him, and he finally dropped his eyes to see Krebain's gloved hand rub comfortingly? on his arm. When had he gotten so close?

"_I__'__m_ here, Vanyel-ashke. _I_ saved you."

Vanyel looked up again, and found himself lost in cat-like pupils.

"I'm _here_."

The lips on his were dry, the tongue soft and moist as they gently sought access.

A tug on his heart. He flinched, his head suddenly hurting. What was he doing, kissing this man? And Tylendel—

"MINE!" Krebain snarled, gripping his shoulders and dragging him in for a bruising kiss. Vanyel cried out as something ripped through him, and he knew no more.

* * *

Tylendel sat up, gasping. The world spun nauseatingly and he swallowed convulsively, trying to keep the day's contents in his stomach. Fire seared through him, and he cried out once before clamping down.

_:'Lendel?:_

He could barely hear Gala's Voice, trying to keep what felt like his heart from being ripped out. A coolness entered his mind, killing the fire, but it did nothing to take away the pain. His hands pressed against his chest, his fingers digging into flesh. He struggled to breathe.

_:Hold onto it, love. Don't let go!:_

_:Just what…exactly—:_

_:SHIELDI:_

That he understood, doubling and tripling his shields, his head positively aching with the strain. He felt Savil add her own protections around him just a minute later. The attack disappeared instantly.

Savil swore. "What in God's name was that?" Her hand was gripping his shoulder too tightly and he realized he was shaking. He took deep, slow breaths to try and ease some of it.

Suddenly Tylendel froze. He frantically took internal stock and stared up in horror at Savil.

"Vanyel," he choked, and that was all he could say.

It took the better part of an hour and the combined efforts of Gala and Savil to get him to move, pulling him out of his near catatonic state and into action. His thoughts were wildly unfocused and he could do nothing but obsess over this new emptiness in his soul that he hadn't known could be missing.

As it was, it was all he could do to stay upright on the saddle as they doubled back and headed for the Ashkevron Manor. If it had been any but a Companion, he probably wouldn't have made the trip at all. _Vanyel__…_The name brought a wave of overwhelming grief that threatened to drag him away. He closed his eyes and concentrated solely on Gala's movements beneath him.

"What do you mean _repent_?" Savil was livid, advancing on Lord Withen. "Of all the—"

Tylendel tuned her out, turning instead to stare out the window. Little bobs of light moved through the field in the distance, on their way home from the day's work. On the horizon, the last bit of twilight was fading over the mountains.

He was exhausted. _Ashke,__oh__ashke._His hand crept up to his chest again. The tremors from yesterday had subsisted, and nothing he'd done had been able to make them cease, as though the absence of the part inside him that was _Vanyel_ had destroyed any balance he'd had.

He knew madness hovered just out of reach, just as he knew Gala held desperately onto their bond, projecting love and warmth and all the good things possible _without_ Vanyel. It helped take the edge off the despair and temper the grief that threatened to consume him. He hadn't thought there was anything worse than Staven. He'd been wrong.

Exhaling loudly, Tylendel held his hands to his face and wiped any tears away before turning back to the room. The hostile gaze locked onto him had him stilling. The man stood just behind Withen, beyond the light of the fireplace. His dark habit marked him for priest and Tylendel recognized very well the expression on his face. The slight curl of disgust and disdain. He replied with a smile that was neither polite nor friendly. He nodded his head in mocking acknowledgment. The priest looked away and he let it go, far from the mood to play.

"Let's go." Savil said, surprising him. She walked past without looking at him, her back stiff. Tylendel spared one last glance at Lord Withen before silently following her out.

"Where are we headed?" He asked quietly when they reached the stables.

"The Abbey of Torus," she replied shortly, "almost a day's ride from here. Gods damn them both, of all the boneheaded…"

As they began their journey north again, Tylendel withdrew into himself again. _Vanyel__…_

**AN: Till next time.**


	6. One by One

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Misty Lackey.**

**AN: Yea, just noticed my formatting for past chapters is mostly all gone/messed up. Yep.  
**

**Inevitable  
Chapter V: One by one  
By: B. Angel**

_:__'__Lendel:_ Gala's firm but insistent tug on his mind pulled him back from..._:We__'__re__ here, __love.:_ Her Voice trembled. Tylendel opened his eyes, blinking against the too bright snow and the white of his Companion's coat. He'd lost time again.

"'Lendel?" Savil's voice held the same uncertain undercurrent. He smiled at her, but it didn't seem to reassure her any. He glanced around. It was a simple chapel front—deceptively small, for he could see smoke rising in several places from chimneys some distance back.

When he looked back at her, her lips were pursed. "Stay," she said. Her voice brooked no argument, and he watched her go impassively.

He could have told her there was no point. Vanyel was dead. It was the same as with Staven, the feeling of his twin being ripped away. Dead.

_:Don't you want to know what happened?:  
_

He let his head fall sideways, considering Gala's question. He ignored the fact that she was, and had been making a habit of, following his thoughts—despite the fact that he was no longer under watch, or was he?

_:Would it__ make__ it__ better?:_ The question was rhetorical, and they both knew it._ :Would__ I__ have __vengeance? __Closure?:  
_

He felt her hesitate._ :Would__ Vanyel__ want__ you__ this__ way?__ Will__ you __again,__ hurt__ Savil__ and__ I?__ All__ those __that __love__ you __still?:  
_

He closed his eyes, feeling the tears surfacing. _:One__ by __one, __Gala. __It__'__s__ only __a __matter__ of __time.: _His father, his mother, his brother, and now Vanyel. Tylendel started to laugh, and ended up hunched over Gala's back in a near sob, gasping in the icy air to ease the tightness in his chest. His father, his mother, his brother. Vanyel. The litany ran mockingly on repeat in his mind.

_:__'__Lendel...: _He heard the helpless heartache in her voice._  
_

He inhaled several deep breaths again, clenching shaking hands in effort to still them. When he was sure the hysteria wouldn't come again he dismounted and entered the abbey. It was a stifling warmth inside, the choking aroma of incense and candles invading his nostrils. He considered going back outside. Instead he walked forward, following his connection to Savil, felt her mental sigh and the ever constant accompanying surge of worry.

The hallway was narrow, dim and dark. He stopped before the fourth doorway and entered without preamble.

"I can't—excuse me young man!" The man admonished, rising to his feet from behind the desk. He was heavy set and soft, clearly used to his luxuries.

Savil rose from her seat, her hands raised in placation. "Apologies Father Bekth, may I introduce Herald-Mage Trainee Tylendel? He is currently on internship with me."

He bowed slightly, a contrite smile sliding into place. "Apologies Father, I wasn't sure this was the right door."

The priest pursed his lips as if still in disapproval before settling back into his chair.

_:Not__ appreciated,__ ke__'__chara.__ You __know__ better.:_

Tylendel took up position behind her as she sat back down, instinctively facing halfway towards the door.

The priest cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I cannot divulge any information regarding the young Master Vanyel. We respect your authority of course, Herald-Mage, and the personal connection you share. However, while I understand your concern, Lord Withen made it quite clear to me that Vanyel was not to be contacted nor disturbed by anyone."

The man was lying. He could Feel the anxiety radiating off of him, could see the slight sheen of sweat on his balding forehead. Something had happened to Van and this man was trying to save his own ass. He felt the briefest stirring of anger, an almost welcome wash of emotion that tided over the emptiness inside.

"Let's be honest, Father," Savil replied steadily, her voice taking on almost an edge. "I know something happened here. Where is Vanyel?"

Father Bekth frowned, opening his mouth to deny her accusation.

"Think carefully sir, of your reply. Should you prove obstinate I will have no choice but to contact the Patriarch in Haven and request a full investigation of this place."

His mouth snapped shut. Her threat hung in the air.

She stood slowly, placing her hands on the desk and leaning towards him. "I just want to find my nephew."

Those fat lips pursed again, and beady eyes stared almost suspiciously at Savil. Finally, the man exhaled, wiping his forehead with a shaky hand. "The boy escaped on one of our horses," he admitted. "Several days ago. We had searched, of course. But the storm hit, and he could have gone anywhere. And yesterday—," he hesitated.

"Yesterday?" Savil prompted.

"The horse returned yesterday."

Tylendel's head spun, and he gripped the back of Savil's chair so hard the leather creaked in the silence. Fear had replaced his anger. That Vanyel had been caught out in the wilderness. That Vanyel had died alone, frozen to death, attacked by beasts. Had Withen even bothered to teach his son any survival skills? Would Van have wanted to learn?

Abruptly he turned and left. He inhaled, trying to breathe, but the air seemed unable to get past the lump in his throat, nor the weight in his chest. He nearly ran towards the entrance, rushing for the crisp air. Outside, he hunched over, hands on his knees as he gasped shakily.

_Oh__ Van, __was __it__ so __bad __that__ you__ had__ to__ run__ away?_

He didn't react when a hand settled on his back, having sensed Savil as she came up behind him. He closed his eyes, allowing his head to hang.

"We're searching," he said flatly, "and I want this place checked into. Vanyel would have never—." He broke off, his jaw tense.

"I'm of the same mind myself," she said calmly. "The entire place just doesn't sit right with me."

A beat of silence.

"I can go myself—," she began.

"No," he replied, his voice low. He straightened. "Let's go."

* * *

They searched.

Deeper into the forest.

Hours into days.

Days into weeks.

Tylendel stood in the clearing, blinking away the soft snow on his lashes, his gaze sweeping the trees without really seeing. They offered him no information, bare branches buried beneath powder and glass; devoid of life and sound. The animals had all but disappeared again, deep into their burrows to prepare for the storm. He could already sense the clouds forming in the distance.

Where had Vanyel gone? Why couldn't they find him? Here he stood, toeing the line into Tayledras territory. The signs were clear. If Vanyel had crossed here, would they have let him die? For merely trespassing? Would they have killed him? Despite Savil's reassurances that none of the scouts she'd contacted had seen a boy of Vanyel's description, the fears remained. The Hawkbrothers were of the shoot first and ask questions later variety, and they both knew it.

His jaw ached, tense from the piercing cold, from the coiled emotions he held, ever at bay. He was tired. Too many sleepless nights on frozen ground, the chill seeping into his bones, the wind biting into his skin. He didn't think the cold would ever leave him. He couldn't think about how Savil was faring, somewhere a bit north. How long would she allow him to keep searching? How long would he do this to her, to all them?

They had already received urgent summons from a place too far away, being somewhere they were supposed to have gone in the first place. People were dead over there. How long would they neglect their duties? But people were _dead _over there, where Vanyel might not be. And wasn't that just an awful thought?

What would Vanyel think of him?

Savil had said nothing as they'd received the news, her impassive court face sliding in. But he knew her, could Feel the uncertainty and the guilt, compounding onto his own.

He turned to face Gala, hand reaching up to caress her neck, leaning onto her forehead. Tylendel exhaled, feeling the tears prickle against his eyelids.

_:We __are __here.:  
_  
No pressure. No guilt. His trembling hands fisted close in her mane. How long? How _long_. Would Vanyel fade too, if he walked forward? A memory smothered by time, like the trail behind them, slowly disappearing beneath the gently drifting snow. He needed more time. He wanted to selfishly stay, and he wondered if she would actually leave him here.

Somehow he thought she would-knew if he asked her, she would lead him and leave him all the way to her Hawkbrothers. But the idea of her riding alone, into an unknown situation without him, didn't sit well with him. _One by __one_.

Tylendel took another deep breath, feeling the chill travel all the way to his lungs, focusing his thoughts to here and now. Then, together, he and Gala headed north.

* * *

The town of Deedun was midsized, with a population of about 700, according to the magistrate's office. It was a popular stop for those on the road, or river, to and from Haven, with the dubious distinction of having both methods of transportation running through the town.

Herald Linsley was a local, returning home after his training to take up post once his predecessor had retired. His hair was a bright auburn, and his skin so pale that the slightest pressure turned it red. His face was freckled and splotchy from what was likely too much sun. He was a gangly several inches taller than Tylendel, which was mildly disconcerting as he had smiled politely up in greeting. He wasn't used to feeling short.

"The altar was left undisturbed since we found it, but a watchman was ambushed that very night. I've doubled the guards, but we don't know what was taken, or by who." Linsley walked along the edge of the circle, crudely etched into the ground. The man didn't need to point out exactly where the woman had been slain. A lot of blood had soaked into this ground, a cloying film on his senses that made him slightly ill.

"That's not all," he called, having walked further away. He pointed at something on the ground. Tylendel rose from where he crouched and followed behind Savil.

An object lay abandoned on the ground, half rusted and covered with dirt.

"A bracelet." The Herald moved even further away and pointed down again. "A necklace."

Tylendel didn't bother to follow them this time.

"And several other pieces of jewelry spread along this clearing, probably belonging to different women. One of the guards recognized the owner of the bracelet, a missing persons from quite some time ago, but we have yet to find the owners of these. There's also a pile of burnt clothing, so we think they were stripped before they were killed. We haven't moved anything just yet, just in case."

_:Looks like an addict, with this much blood__.:_ He said.

_:Can__ you __sense__ the __ley-line?:_ She asked. _:Probably __a__ hedge __wizard __or __witch getting in over their head,__ judging __by__ how__ it__'__s__ not__ been __tapped.:_

He concentrated past the horribly saturated ground and found that there was indeed a small current running through. Just how many people had to have died here for him to not sense that immediately?

"For now," Tylendel focused his attention on Linsley again. "We've sent riders to neighboring towns, all the way to Haven, to see if we can get a copy of their travel rosters and compare with our own. But a lot of folk pass through and its hard to tell if they've simply moved on or if there was foul play."

"Wow," he blinked, impressed by the scope of the investigation.

Herald Linsley smiled wryly at him. "It will take some time, of course. There are a lot of records to go through. We've also sent sketches of the jewelry found here, so hopefully we'll get a something off of that."

"Thank you, Linsley," Savil said, "We'll concentrate on finding the one that did this, and hopefully putting a stop to it."

They rejoined Tylendel next to the bracelet.

"And look, I appreciate you coming so fast," Linsley said earnestly, and more than a bit rueful. Tylendel looked away. "I know you were most likely occupied, but I'm just a Herald—I don't know much about these magic things. I can't even Speak to my Heni very well, though she makes her opinions clear enough!" He laughed.

"No sir. _We_ appreciate the opportunity to do our job," Savil said firmly. "Your efficiency has already helped tremendously, and you're never _just _a Herald."

Herald Linsley flushed beneath Savil's direct stare and ducked his head as he led them back to the town. His long strides took him easily ahead of them. Tylendel thought quizzically at her. _:Overdoing __it__ a __bit, __Savil?:_

She snorted softly. _:Walk __a __bit __in __those__ shoes,__ youngling,__ and__ tell__ me __if__ it__'__s__ overdoing __it.:  
_

They settled at the aptly named River Inn, almost right beside the docks.

"I'll be seeing you folk in the morning, hopefully with good news, and we'll go see Werner. He was the one who interrupted the sacrifice." Herald Linsley said, before heading to his own home for the night.

While Savil went to speak to the owner about bedding arrangements, Tylendel began his nightly ritual with Gala. He could feel himself relaxing with her as she enjoyed being groomed.

_:It__'__s__ not__ your __fault,__ '__Lendel.:_ She began, when he was almost done. _:__Vanyel __is__ a__ smart __boy.__ He__'__s __alive.:_

He almost laughed, knowing she'd been building up to it, but he didn't reply, checking on her hooves instead. Supernatural creatures they were, they still sometimes suffered from the wear and tear of the road.

_:And__ the __moment__ the __Hawkbrothers __find__ anything,__ we__'__ll__ know.__The__ fact__ that__ they__ haven__'__t__ contacted__ us__ says __a__lot.:_ She stayed quiet for moment, watching him as he set out fresh water and grain for her. He moved to the next stall and paid the same care and attention for Kellen, aware that Savil was probably feeling the day more intensely than he was.

Gala whickered sadly when he was done. _:You __don__'__t __talk __like__ you __used__ to. __I __miss__ you.:_

Tylendel echoed her sigh, turning to her, and took her head into his hands.

_:I__ love__ you__, Gala,:_ he said, putting all the feeling and truth he could behind those words, _:and__ I__'__m__ doing__ my__ best__…__just__ give__ me __time.__ I__ just...it__ isn__'__t __the__ same. __Not__ without __him.__ Not__ without __either__ of__ them. And __I__ left__ him__ back__ there.__ I__ can__'__t__ forgive __myself.:_ He stomped ruthlessly on the grief, shoving it away into the back of his mind.

_:'Lendel...:_

_:Sleep well, love,:_ he interrupted, releasing her and heading in.

* * *

_Tylendel__ was__ uneasy._

_Where had__ he __been __last? __Where__ was __he__ now? Savil? Gala? __His __thoughts __grew__ sharper__ as__ the __questions __tumbled__ out. __His __mind __was __too__ disciplined__ a __place __to __fall__ for__ this__ ruse__ for__ what __it__ was._

_He knew __it__ was__ Vanyel. __He __would__ recognize __that __profile__ from__ anywhere; __knew__ that__ dark__ mane of hair__ and__ penchant __for__ wearing __dramatically__ striking __clothes._

_But…__where __was__ Companion__'__s __Field?_

_This was __not__ the__ dream__ that__ had__ plagued__ him__ since__ their__ separation. __That __one__ he__ knew __stemmed__ from __the__ memories__ of__ their__ time__ past.__ That__ one__ had__ stopped,__ with__ the __loss__ of __his__ lover._

_"__Ashke,__" __Tylendel __breathed,__ an__ unidentifiable __fear__ in__ his__ gut __holding__ him__ in__ place. __It__ was__ only __a__ moment, __however, __that__ his__ desire__ overcame __his __trepidation__ and__ he__ moved__ as__ only __a__ Herald __could,__ swift__ and__ noiseless.__ He__ hesitated __again,__ only__ a__ hands__ breadth__ away._

_Suddenly, familiar__ and__ beloved __silver __turned__ to__ gaze__ blankly __at __him._

_Time froze, as they stared at each other, and something broke __inside__ him. H__e __surged __forward__ to __embrace__ Vanyel._

_"__I__'__m__ sorry, __ashke,__" __he __sobbed, __clutching__ him __tightly.__ "__So __sorry!__"_

_"__I__'__ve__ found__ you.__"_

_Startled, he pulled back__, __bewildered__ by __the__ sweet__ smile__ that__ curved__ Vanyel__'__s__ lips._

_"__Thank gods, 'Lendel__,__" __he__ whispered__ again.__ Slowly, __his__ hand__ rose__ and__ touched__ Tylendel__'__s__ face._

His eyes flew open, a hand automatically going to his face as he sat up in his bed. And then Tylendel laughed, tears welling to overflow down his cheeks. His free hand crept up to his heart and fisted close over his shirt.

_Ashke._

The knife was in him before he knew it-a physical pain that shocked him, keeping him immobilized for the briefest of moments as he stared into the frightened eyes of his attacker.

**AN:****Too ****fast?**** Haha. See you next year xD;;**


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